


Given Unsought

by Mytha



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, Conversations, F/F, Gifts, Rain, complicated feelings, unexpected tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-01 14:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20816627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/pseuds/Mytha
Summary: Vivienne shows her gratitude to a confused Aveline.





	Given Unsought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hibernate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibernate/gifts).

It seldom rains in Kirkwall, but when it does the city submits to it with disbelief and reluctance. Dust and dirt streak down walls, and cobbled streets in Hightown run with tiny rivulets, while in Lowtown garbage is swept along alleyways and Darktown drowns in the accumulated mud and waste of the city. 

Apart from the disorder that follows the rain naturally it also seems to wash a surprising number of ne'er do wells out of their holes. They prowl the streets like rats, and thanks to them, Aveline has spent most of the day out there on the streets. She owes it to the men and women of the guard to lend her support when the going gets tough. 

She feels half-drowned herself when she walks back into the Viscount's Keep, back to her desk where more work awaits her. Her hands are numb and wrinkly-white with the prolonged exposure to the water that has had all day to seep through her gloves. With any luck she can borrow some gear from the guards next door and warm herself up. No time to go home and change. 

It would be a day like this that marks the conclusion of her Viscount-mandated hospitality of the leader of the new Circles. Not a friend exactly of Varric's, but they fought together side by side often enough as members of the Inquisition – and Aveline supposes that counts for something. 

There is a letter on her desk, which has been mercifully absent from her thoughts – mostly – during her patrols today. It is an invitation on crisp paper bearing the golden insignia of the Grand Enchanter she has become so familiar with over the past months. Dinner. Aveline rolls her shoulders trying to chase away the tingle of discomfort rolling down her spine.

~V~

“Thank you for all you have done, my dear.”

Aveline flinches a little at the endearment. Vivienne de Fer, the Grand Enchanter, is entirely too liberal with its use. It did not bother her initially. Now something within her revolts. 

“Grand Enchanter,” she emphasizes the title, ”it is my duty to keep order in Kirkwall. I would not have chaos return to the streets.”

“You were afraid I would bring _chaos_!” The tone is mocking, scandalized. 

Aveline does not appreciate it. She bites her tongue and takes a breath. “You would have a Circle re-established in Kirkwall?” 

“I would not presume so much. I merely wished to show my fellow mages that there is still value in such a community dedicated to the study of magic. Remind them that it must be controlled by those who know what they are doing.”

Aveline shakes her head. “I hope you know what you are doing, Grand Enchanter.”

“I can be diplomatic.” Vivienne holds her gaze before walking away.

There is silence between them for a moment. Aveline lets her eyes wander over opulently decorated walls, lavish furnishings – Madame de Fer's hosts are wealthy and not ashamed to show it. The Grand Enchanter fits into these surroundings as if she were an organic part of them. Her robes are expertly cut and tailored to measure, what sparse jewelry she wears is beautiful and lends a glow to skin that might otherwise show the lack of sleep and stress the enchanter no doubt has been under during her visit to Kirkwall. Aveline knows the Grand Enchanter's schedule. She helped set it up. They have worked together efficiently where it was necessary. The guard provided protection for this political visit. 

Aveline forces herself to relax. “I did not mean to suggest you were not. Merely that your visit was a difficult one to prepare for.” 

“I understand.” Vivienne settles on a chaise lounge upholstered in blue and gold. “And yet here we are at the end of my visit, and Kirkwall none the worse for it.”

Aveline picks a leather armchair for herself and sits, feeling under-dressed and not quite herself in the uniform she has borrowed. At least it is clean and dry. 

Madame de Fer has proven a skillful politician and, true, they did avoid the upheaval that Aveline had feared – but that did not mean that her visit had gone un-opposed. Much time has been invested in the scrubbing of walls around this grand home in recent days. 

“Grand Enchanter,” Aveline begins.

“Vivienne, please. We are neither of us here on business. Or would you prefer to be addressed as Guard Captain still?” 

Aveline is flustered. It seems ill-tempered to refuse this offer, though she feels forced into its familiarity. She shakes her head, feeling unable to resist the glamour of the uncommon smile that now appears on the Grand– on Vivienne's lips. 

“Good.” 

Aveline cannot help but wonder what she has done to be invited here tonight. Unless there is some favor as yet unspoken she will be asked for. 

As if on cue a servant appears with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, another one bearing a tray of drinks follows soon after. Vivienne beckons them and they set down their burden on a long low table that bisects the space between them, then bring over two small individual tables to place near her and Vivienne. 

“My dear, I am sure you do not mind this evening being no grand affair.” Vivienne says to her while the servants offer a choice of meats, filled puff-pastries and other delicacies. Aveline chooses the less adventurous-seeming ones, which are set down on the table close to her. 

Aveline is rather glad she is not forced to endure Orlesian nobility, but being alone with Vivienne de Fer is proving decidedly unsettling. She watches the enchanter taste the wine she is offered and is so distracted that she almost causes the servant preparing to fill her own glass to drop it, as she is startled hastily waving the bottle way. “No, I did not – oh! Water for me, please.” Her skin burns with irrational embarrassment. Why does she feel so on edge? 

“I wanted to thank you. I had the feeling the dear Viscount was rather irritated that I took up so much of you time while I was here.”

This excessive gratitude feels out of place, but a small part of Aveline is glad her work is appreciated. “It is my duty. It is only what I do every day.” This is only a half truth – keeping the Grand Enchanter safe might be her job – but corresponding with her in preparation for her visit had not been. That had been a favor. _To Varric_. 

Vivienne's lips twitch with a thought that goes unexpressed. 

The sound of the cutlery seems deafening to Aveline. She chews slowly, at a loss about how to make conversation with this woman. 

Eventually Vivienne speaks: “You may not deem this necessary, but you have been so very helpful, my dear, and I have done nothing for you. I thought it only polite to offer you a token of my appreciation before I leave Kirkwall.” She glances to the left of Aveline where two beautifully crafted wooden boxes wait on a lavish sideboard. 

Should she accept? Aveline wants to decline out of impulse, but the way the enchanter is watching her makes her curious. It cannot hurt to see what she is being offered before politely declining. She clears her throat, which feels a little dry and reaches for her goblet of water, playing for time. 

“They are useful as well as beautiful.” Vivienne's voice is softer suddenly. 

Aveline gets up and walks towards the dark, smooth boxes. One is long, about the size of her forearm and the other is a perfect cube. The grain of the wood is fine – such craftsmanship itself is a rarity. She undoes the latch of the longer box and uncovers gauntlets that almost seem golden in this low light. “Dragonscale?” 

“Crafted at Skyhold.” Vivienne rises, walking over towards her. “I find them difficult to match, but you might find them useful – if they fit?”

Aveline feels compelled to try. To her astonishment they are like a second skin – warming much more quickly to her body than thicker metal. This cannot be accidental. 

“As I thought.” Vivienne's eyes shine in triumph. “You should keep them.” 

“I am not sure I should.” Aveline hesitates, feeling too hot suddenly. 

Beside her, Vivienne steps forward fluidly to open the second box. 

Why can she not resist this curiosity? Aveline bites her lip and steps closer as well, to see what lies within. 

Ensconced in soft black velvet is a matching piece to the dragon scale gloves – a finely-crafted gorget made from scales as well as hide. “This is too much.” 

“Darling, I insist!” Vivienne takes the gorget from its bed of velvet and motions for Aveline to turn, clearly intent on having her try it on.

Aveline is about to turn and unbutton her collar, when she is halted by the sudden realization of what she is doing. Why is she going along with this? Surely this cannot be magic? Varric would have warned her if Vivienne de Fer was known to bewitch - 

“Aveline?” There is concern in the enchanter's voice. 

“Why these gifts? Why for me?” Aveline's brow furrows. “They are too costly.”

Vivienne scoffs. “My dear, you may have many admirable qualities, but taking care of your appearance, spending time and money on yourself, your well-being – in those areas you require the help of... your friends.”

“And you are that?” 

“I hope to be.” 

Aveline takes a deep breath and turns after that, making the decision to trust still unsure why. 

When she feels the dragon-scale gorget touch her skin her fingers fly up to widen her collar, making sure the fit is optimal. At the nape of her neck soft fingers close fastenings, the scrape of nails makes her scalp tingle. 

“There.” She feels Vivienne step back.

Aveline turns around to catch a glimpse of an expression of wonder on the enchanter's face, before it vanishes into a composed smile. 

“You look lovely, darling.” 

The gorget fits perfectly, of course – and yet she still feels short of breath. “I should leave.” She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth.

The smile vanishes from Vivienne's face. “Of course, my dear, you must never want for work.” 

Aveline turns her back towards Vivienne again, trying to compose herself. “Help me take it off?”

Skilled hands are at her neck again and soon after the gorget is dropped into her hands. “Will you do me the honor of accepting my gifts?”

Aveline indicates the precious boxes. “I am not sure I should take them now. The rain might-”

“My dear! I will have them delivered to you, of course.”

Aveline nods. Then steps back. She keeps her eyes on her gifts, it seems the safer option. “I thank you, Grand Enchanter. You have been too generous.” 

The chill of the rain seems to creep in from outside with the realization that she has made a mistake. She only meant to retreat to safety - more distance betwen them. Aveline does not dare look up. 

“The pleasure has been all mine, Guard Captain. Let me accompany you to the door.” Vivienne steps past her swiftly. 

There is little she can do now, so Aveline tries to fall into step with her retreating hostess. Maybe she has just been to tired, but this evening makes increasingly little sense to her. 

“Vivienne,” she calls out, stopping her companion in her tracks. “I do not mean to be impolite. I merely – am unaccustomed to such...” 

“Do not worry, my dear.” Vivienne turns back towards her. “I might have been too impulsive myself.” She waves away Aveline's sound of protest. “I am honored you decided to indulge me.” 

“Goodbye,” Aveline finally says, unable to think of any other reply. 

“Au revoir,” Vivienne replies and inexplicably takes a step towards her. 

It only takes a second for Aveline to remember the Orlesian custom of kisses on the cheek to accompany a goodbye, another second for her to turn her head to the side so Vivienne's soft lips can barely touch her cheek. Then turn her head again – how many kisses were there again? Two or three? She hesitates only for Vivienne's lips to brush hers as her body stiffens in panic. 

“Goodbye,” she mumbles again. “I am sorry.” She quickly rushes outside.

~V~

Aveline is glad for the rain that follows her home. It runs down her neck, chasing the memory of unnerving fingers, numbs her face to drown out the sensation of Vivienne's lips. 

On the streets of Kirkwall she regains her composure, feels the strange spell of the evening fade. 

The next day Vivienne de Fer leaves Kirkwall – as does the rain. 

In the afternoon one of the Orlesian servants appears with the enchanter's gifts. 

Aveline opens the accompanying card when she is alone.

> _Until next time. _  
_~ V. _


End file.
